The Wedding - Part I

Okay I know, it's already Wednesday and I'm just now getting around to acknowledging the wedding I participated in over the past weekend. If you've ever seen the movie Meet the Fockers, you already have a pretty good idea of how things went.

Let's start with the rehearsal Friday night, shall we?

The actual rehearsal at Centennial Park went off pretty much without incident if you discount my mild shock at meeting the toothless Reverend (I say mild because this IS, after all, the South). I was also introduced to the various families and friends from Mississippi and Alabama. And was highly disappointed to discover that Kelly's infamous carny uncle hadn't made it!

Fortunately, the Nashville Parks Service has impeccable timing and had just completed installing sprinkler heads throughout Centennial Park leaving behind sizeable patches of fresh dirt which we would periodically sink into on our route. At least the sprinklers didn't actually come on during the ceremony as was the general vague concern.

Afterwards we all retreated to Kelly's house to enjoy a cookout on the Big Deck…or so we thought…

Oh where to begin…the grill blowing up? the small red-headed child strung out on Coca-Cola? the dozens of buckets filled with roses, orchids and greens waiting expectantly in the basement to be magically transformed (by elves I had initially assumed) into precious bouquets, corsages, and centerpieces?

The grand plan, in my estimation, was to grill kabobs. A fine idea. So Kelly's mom and brother-in-law began assembling the kabobs while Charlie (groomsman) decided to get the grill going. Meanwhile, Kelly was pulling seemingly random food items out of the refrigerator and putting them on the kitchen table (a tub of hummus... a platter of sushi...some kind of...potato salad...I think) and Matt was…umm…I think he was smoking cigars? I can't really remember as the very next sentence I heard was "Holy shit! Look out! The deck's on fire!". The kitchen door flew open as Charlie and Kelly's dad called for buckets of water and Dante's inferno raged outside the kitchen window.

Throughout all the chaos, there was this small red-headed child (who no one really ever claimed), who kept bouncing around, going in and out of the house (failing to close the door behind her on every occasion) demanding that random guests fetch her Cokes. I still haven't figured out if she was a rehearsal crasher because I seriously don't recall seeing her at the wedding.

The fire was extinguished amongst much panicked shouting and swearing. Fortunately, Charlie was not badly burnt. And the cause of fire was gravely determined by Kelly's dad to be some kind of flammable adhesive that had been used on the grill's propane tank. Hmm. It was at this point that Matt decided the best plan of action would be to leave his house and guests to go try to find a replacement grill at 9 o'clock in the evening. Hmm. Sometimes I think that when one becomes a bride or a groom, some kind of chemical reaction occurs which causes all former reasoning abilities to suddenly dissolve.

Kelly's mom and sister had an alternative plan of action which involved putting all of the carefully constructed kabobs on a giant baking sheet and simply cooking them in the oven. In theory this was a great plan and I fully endorsed it until the sheet full of skewered raw meat and vegetables was precariously positioned on the top of the stove and as Julie (who was crouching down to adjust the oven) stood up, she knocked the sheet which sent the food flying through the air and crashing to the floor!

Now, I am a strong proponent of the 5-Second Rule, but when there are hairy pets residing in your household, you just can't abide by that rule. So, the piles of meat and vegetables were chucked into the trash bin and Kelly's mom threw up her hands in despair and exasperation and wondered aloud if Papa John's was in order at this point. But, since neither Kelly nor Matt were to be found, I think she and Julie resigned themselves to assembling more kabobs with the leftover meat and veggies being stored in the refrigerator. I’m not exactly sure if this is what happened though because directly after the enormous crash of food to the floor, I made the decision to escape the mayhem and quietly slipped down the basement stairs.

Lo and behold! who do I find hiding amongst the buckets of flora!? Kelly and Lacey (fellow bridesmaid). I filled them in on what had been happening upstairs and we all agreed it was much nicer in the basement amid the roses. So we stayed in the basement for the next…oh…3 hours or so and assembled various flower arrangements. Eventually we were joined by other bridesmaids and two ex-girl-scout-troop-leaders - which was quite fortunate as none of us were being very Martha Stewart-y with the whole flower thing.

I think Matt returned at some point with not one…not two…but three grills. (don't ask me…I have no idea). So, sometime around 11 or 12, Kelly's dad descended into the dim den of roses offering bits of grilled meat and vegetables.

I'd like to take this opportunity to commend Kelly's mom and dad. I know they won't read this, but their tireless efforts did not go unnoticed.

I can't clearly remember when I finally emerged from the sweet-smelling basement, but by the time I did, things seemed to have calmed down considerably upstairs. Surely it was possible to maintain the new pervading sense of order and calm into Saturday's main event…right?

To Cruise or Not to Cruise?

That is the question.

Jennifer is organizing a group cruise thing for Patrick's 40th birthday in February. Now, while the idea of spending a week with Jennifer and Donna and other assorted extended friends and families sounds fun, the idea of a cruise has really never appealed to me. Granted, I've never actually been on a cruise, so my perception may be askew, but the whole jolly, organized, mass-produced escapade makes me wary. I envision lounging by a pool filled to capacity with screaming, splashing munchkins, becoming bored (and/or annoyed) and wandering off only to find the shuffleboard courts have been over-run by the senior citizens sporting black socks and sandals. Jennifer assures me that I will NOT be bored (and says if I do get bored there's something seriously wrong with me - hey, no argument there!).

So, besides my concern at being "trapped" on a boat in the middle of the ocean, (c'mon, I saw Titanic - I know what can happen!) I just don't know that I’m a cruise type of person. See, I'm not big into organized activities, or schedules, or people telling me what to do, or when and where to do it. The thing I love most about traveling is being immersed (if only for a little while) in a different culture - having the opportunity to do non-touristy activities; to get a feel for the local history, geography, and architecture; to experience regional cuisine and nightlife. The thrill of travel is getting to know a foreign place as intimately as possible. And, often times, that means putting aside your rigid itinerary and taking the time to leisurely explore the paths less trod. It seems to me a cruise is the exact opposite - a little floating bubble devoid of any and all cultural references, with no delightfully unexpected discoveries. It's a carefully packaged and orchestrated mass excursion designed to be experienced by all the passengers in exactly the same way.

Clearly, up until now, my views of cruises have been somewhat negative - okay, more than somewhat. But, like I said, hanging with my friends in pretty much any setting could be a fun time, so I've been gathering the opinions of people who have been on cruises to get some perspective. While the responses have varied, I must say that the pro-cruise constituency is currently in the majority. Judging by her own cruising experience, Melissa seems to think I would not enjoy being on a cruise (now where in the world would she have gotten that idea?). However, both Josh and JP enthusiastically expounded on the virtues of the cruise - extolling the intense relaxation, the stress-free environment, the lack of expense, the wide variety of activities (scheduled, yes…but varied nonetheless), the abundant and delicious food (although again, Melissa denies the quality is anything to write home about), the carefree tropical weather. As JP pointed out, you can't regard a cruise as a bona fide travel experience…instead just take it and enjoy it for what it is - a fun, low-key party on the water. Yeah, okay, cool I'm down with that philosophy. And, no doubt I would end up having a fun time. But here's the thing…do I really want to spend my limited vacation time and funds on a week-long party?

Despite the wavering going on in my head, I AM leaning towards joining my friends - after all, who am I to say no to a party!? And by actually experiencing a cruise I can then judge accurately for myself whether or not I am indeed a "cruise type person". So, if anyone else wants to weigh in on the cruise debate, your opinion would be much appreciated!

Everyone's a Star

So, even though we're ca-razy busy at work right now (yes, it's 9 o'clock and I'm still at the office - of course I am blogging at the moment instead of working, heh), my co-workers and I still managed to engage in a lengthy discussion this afternoon regarding which actors and actresses would play each of us if our office got a movie deal. (Hey, you don't know - it could happen!)

Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately - depending on how you look at it), we all know each other well enough to make these inordinately important decisions. Our criteria was not only physical resemblance (to a minor degree) but also how capable the actor or actress would be playing the character based upon previous performances.

We came up with quite a star-studded cast. It was decided that the four partners would be played by John Goodman, Nick Nolte, Tom Hanks, and Christopher Walken (yeah, it's an interesting partnership, to say the least!). Others in the ensemble cast would include Mike Myers, Gary Busey, Courtney Cox, Kathy Griffin, Kevin Spacey, William H. Macy, Steve Martin, Marlon Brando (the younger, less insane version), Wil Farrell...to name just a handful. While we paired everyone up with their respective flesh-and-blood thespians, one co-worker was deemed animation-worthy and will be played by the inimitable Lisa Simpson. If you knew her, this would crack you up as much as it does me!

I got Janeane Garofalo...again. For some reason, anytime an actress comparison is made in connection to me, Janeane's name pops up. And I'm not entirely sure why. My mom and my sister have equated me to the animated Daria character for years, which is purportedly based on Garofalo. And yes, I'll admit to being sarcastic and even non-conformist when it suits me, but I'm much more cheerful, and FAR less bitter and disgruntled, than Garofalo (or Daria for that matter!) appears to be. Right?

Aaaaaaanyway, clearly these long hours are making us all a little loopy. But, at least we have fun . . . and if Jerry Bruckheimer or the Coen brothers come knocking on our door, we'll be ready.

We're not in Kansas anymore

Do you ever have one of those dreams?…you know, the dream that feels so real and so threatening, that when you wake up sweaty and out of breath, your heart thumping, the feeling of relief that it was only a dream is so overwhelming it brings tears to your eyes?

Lots of people have recurring nightmares - of falling or being chased or stabbing someone (although the latter probably only applies to Bethany!). I have this fear of being lost. Ironic, I know, considering I've spent a good chunk of my 31 years being lost. But, I've always managed to un-lose myself. The recurring theme of my nightmares (nightmares I've had since I was a kid) is being hopelessly lost. And I'm not talking about 'lost' as in "oh shit!, I took a wrong turn back there". I mean 'lost' as in being utterly alone and having no sense of where I am or how to get where I'm going if I even know where I'm going, which is rarely the case anyway.

So, in my nightmare that woke me out of a sound sleep last night, I was in a strange city - it was hilly and it must've been by the sea because I could hear seagulls and ships' horns (like I said, it was a very detailed and intense nightmare). I was walking at a hurrying pace and frantic that I didn't know where I was and couldn't find anyone to ask directions. Panic set in because I knew I had to get to work (hmm…an indication I've been working too much lately?) and didn't know where work was or where I was or how to get there. And then in dream-like fashion, I suddenly found myself inside a big, old house (my nightmares of being lost almost always involve a house at some point). In my dream the house felt familiar in a foreboding kind of way, although in my waking state I couldn't place it as somewhere I've ever been.

There were no windows in the house and it was dimly illuminated with artificial lighting. There was dingy, old-fashioned flowered wallpaper on most of the walls and it was alarmingly quiet. Quiet, except that I thought I kept hearing scuffling as if there were other people directly ahead of me or directly behind me just out of my sight. At some point I frantically realized I needed to get out of the house if I was to become un-lost. And I couldn't. I tried, but it became labyrinth-esque with strange, tight corridors, still air, and no way to tell where I was going. The panic and anxiety was palpable. But even in my frantic dream state, I told myself "just retrace your steps, stop trying to find the way out and just go back the way you came".

Apparently I took my own advice because I tried going back the way I came, my fear enveloping me as the environment seemed to become less and less recognizable. But then I entered a room and there was a man. A big man with dark hair and a handle-bar moustache who was dressed as an old-fashioned circus ringleader. In my dream I knew without a doubt that the man wasn't there to help me, but I pleaded with him anyway, begging for some kind of direction. My panicked desperation at being lost became wild . . . and that's when I woke up in sweat-dampened sheets with my heart pounding against my ribcage and fear-laced adrenaline raging through my veins

As a kid, my sister's favorite story was Alice In Wonderland. While it completely fascinated and delighted her, it scared the bejeezuz out of me! Seriously, my child's brain could not fathom anything more terrifying than being lost like that - alone in a strange, menacing, and more often than not, hostile environment with no clear indication of how to get un-lost. As an adult I've come to love the fanciful imagination of Lewis Carroll, but back then I just wished Alice would've had a yellow brick road to follow. At least in Dorothy's case of being lost, she not only had friends to help her become un-lost, but she had a definitive path to follow. Sometimes I wonder if somehow I've strayed from my yellow brick road or if, like Alice, I don't even have a path to follow.

"If you ain't first..."

you're last." - Ricky Bobby

Played in a tennis tournament all weekend out in the hot, hot sun. Placed 2nd in my division. Slightly disappointing, but fun nonetheless.